


Gone Elvis

by Stark-Raving-Hazelnut (MsChaos)



Category: James Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Drama, Flashbacks, Hydra Bucky Barnes, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChaos/pseuds/Stark-Raving-Hazelnut
Summary: "I regret to report that The Winter Soldier's mission into the United States did not go as planned."- Captain America Vol 5 #11 The Winter Soldier's slip into madness as he tries to recall his memories of his previous life as Bucky during a HYDRA mission to NYC. Inspired by The Winter Soldier comics and certain scenes from CA: Civil War.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> "Gone Elvis" is a military term or slang for when a service member is missing in action.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Bucky Barnes(if I did, I would send that poor baby to therapy) or any of the Captain America characters. I'm just doing this for fun so shame on you if you sue me.

* * *

**Prologue**

_April 9th, 1973_

He should be use to it by now. At least, he _thinks_ he should be. He doesn't really remember. All he can think about, all he can see is that splatter of blood that is newly painted on that wall.

He stared at the red on the wall. He feels like he wants to throw up. Every time he closed his eyes that's all he ever sees. That color. Red. It stained his vision, blinded him as he struggled to wake up every night since he had been gone.

The first time, in God knows how many years, he was finally starting to see clearly. He was starting to wake up. Slowly but surely. Then he saw that color. That color brought him back, mocked him for thinking that he would ever truly escape this nightmare. It was a sign. It was telling him, "You belong to us. You belong to HYDRA."

He doesn't know how they found him. But they did and they always will. He let out a quiet sound that sounded too much like a sob but he smothered it down before they could hear him. A pain ached in his chest. He is not sure if it's pain from holding back the tears or the fear of what they will do after. He kept glancing at that wall. He could feel himself losing it. The fear was eating him from the inside out.

It was just too much. It was too much red. He's had enough of red. He hated the color now. But there was no escaping it. He realizes that now. And fuck, how much he _hated_ that.

He can't keep it in. Not anymore. He could feel something rising up in his throat as he knelt down on the ground. His hands shook in front of him, trying hard to keep him from totally collapsing. His metal hand began to clench and curled into a fist. It broke through the floor, clutching the broken pieces of concrete. He pursed his lips and breathed too fast. He was trying so hard to not let it out. He whimpered softly. He didn't want to show weakness in front of his handlers. He could hear them speaking to him but the words sounded too far and distant that he couldn't understand what they were asking him. He kept staring at the blood on the wall. The life that it once belong to. His eyes stung with tears that were unwilling to shed. He squeezed his eyes shut. God, it hurt so much. He can't hold it in.

His shuddering gasps shocked his handlers. They had never heard The Winter Soldier make those sounds before. They didn't think he was capable of it.

Bucky felt his mouth opened wide. This time, he let out a blood curdling scream.

**TBC...**


	2. Longing

* * *

**Longing**

noun

1\. A strong, persistant desire or craving, especially for something unattainable or distant:

_Filled with longing for home._

* * *

**March, 1973**

The Soldier cannot remember how he got into this particular room in this particular building, holding a gun that he had recently fired.

He can't seem to remember a lot of things lately which shouldn't bother him but it does. He doesn't know why it does but it is a feeling that wouldn't go away. So in an attempt to understand that feeling, he went off grid. For the first time in almost 30 years, he made a decision for himself and failed to follow an order made by his handlers.

This feeling probably started when they first brought him to New York. The sights and sounds of the city must have triggered some thing in him that had long since buried. He didn't know what exactly that was, other than it felt familiar.

He was brought here on a mission by his handlers. Senator Harry Baxtor's sudden and untimely death was made to look accidental. The Soldier looked on at the scene of the hotel workers who found the lifeless body of the Senator floating in the rooftop swimming pool. He was unseen and unheard. He had completed his mission successfully.

However, the feeling of familiarity struck him once again when he started to turn and began to walk towards the roof top entrance door when the New York skyline suddenly caught his eye.

He stood, hidden in the shadows, scanning the view of the city. He felt a sharp tug in his chest and in his head. A nagging sensation blossomed forth that informed him that he had been here before. The Soldier began to feel confused.

So to find out why he was felt confusion, he had just simply just walked away. He had felt the need to go and explore this city that feels so familiar and yet so different to him.

The sights and sounds of the city stirred within him a small bit of truth but the truth about what, he did not know. Maybe, he wondered, if he continued walking, he will find it.

No one paid much attention to him as he walked down the streets of the Bowery. The neighborhood was crawling with homeless men and alcoholics who were passed out on the street. What's another lost soul wandering through the Bowery?

The Soldier felt dizzy. He doesn't know where he is going, only that he knows that he is heading in the right direction.

He kept walking. Night had arrived but he paid no mind so he kept walking until all the sudden he found himself sitting in a corner in an abandoned room in an abandoned building. He had no recollection of how he got there. The instincts of the Soldier had taken hold as he walked through the Bowery in a daze. They led him to this building. He needed a place to hide and recon, his instincts had told him. He felt no worry or apprehension to what his handlers might do once they realized, and they surely must have by now, that he did not show up at the agreed meeting spot. It was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could think about was why does this city seem so recognizable in his mind. He needed to find out why. Maybe the feeling would go away once he understands why.

The Soldier's eyes scanned the room he occupied in. It used to be an apartment, he realized but now it was dead inside. Life use to run through these rooms. People, laughter, sadness, food, chatter, friends, family, warmth, cold, tears, pain.

Pain. That was a familiar feeling.

He felt comfortable in this apartment. Because he was dead inside as well. His flesh hand grazed against the wall. The curled edges of the peeling wallpaper brushed against his fingers.

His eyelids felt heavy. In his metal hand, he held his gun limply(he does not recall when he pulled his gun out.) His eyelids drooped, only to have them snap back open once the blackness crept in around the edges. His flesh hand slid down from caressing the wall as he almost falls asleep. He didn't want to sleep. He couldn't. He needed to recon the area. He doesn't know what he needs. He shouldn't know what he needs. But he needs sleep. He needs... needs...

Finally, his eyes slipped closed, shutting out the noise of the world and in his mind and falls into peaceful blackness.

_Bucky!_

He jerked awake.

The Soldier reacted on instinct and lifted his gun with such speed that he wasn't aware he had raised his gun until he fired one single shot.

The bullet made a hole in the decaying wallpaper near the door. He was alone in the room.

His head snapped around in surprise, searching for the voice. It sounded so close.

_"Bucky!"_

He gasped. The voice was louder this time. He couldn't find where the voice was coming from which made him feel disoriented. It sounded as if it was everywhere.

_"We're going to miss the show!"_

The voice ranged through his mind. A young boy. He squeezed his eyes shut. An image started to form.

_"Hold your horses! I'll be right there!" He was talking to a girl. A pretty brunette._

_"Come onnn, Bucky. You can ask Mary Anne out_ after _the movie."_

_Annoyance flared up in him. "Dry up, you punk or your ass is going to be grass!" He yelled back._

_"We live in Brooklyn, Bucky. There is no grass." the young boy retorted, smiling. He laughed as he ran away, Bucky hot on his heels._

The Soldier cried out at the intense feeling from the mental image that formed in his head. The feeling hit him so hard, it had brought him down to his knees. He pressed the gun against the side of his head as his flesh hand gripped his hair tight as if he was trying to squeeze the mental image out.

That feeling that came with that voice and image. He realizes it now. It is that particular feeling he must try to find. That feeling of... home. He needs to find home.

And he needs to find out who is Steve and Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> This is very short I know but this is something that I have been meaning to finish and work on so please bear with me. Also let me know what you think? :)


End file.
